


Into the Flood Again

by anna_chronistic



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Annoying Grantaire, Canon Era, Coincidences, Combeferre is chill, Fix-It, For reasons, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so bad at writing hurt/comfort that this fic turned into crack, Illnesses, Injury, Javert Lives, Javert has a first name, Javert has long hair, Javert knows a shit ton about astronomy, Joly being a drama queen, Joly is easy to make fun of, Kind of meta, Les Amis de l'ABC Shenanigans, M/M, Marius is not Italian, Mild Comic Relief, Post-Seine, Sassy Enjolras, Sassy Javert, Sickfic, and Marius, and les amis too, bad transitions, barricade boys survive, because you can't say "fuck" in the 19th century, contextless tags, excessive use of the word "damn", for some reason, no one can recognize anyone for shit, sassy everyone, someone beta this, way too many mentions of Russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-06 10:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12209331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_chronistic/pseuds/anna_chronistic
Summary: For a kinkmeme prompt from years ago:Javert is sick and the amis comfort him.  Somehow.Also Combeferre and Javert bond over astronomy, Marius gets stalked by a fly, and Jehan beats everyone in a foot race.





	1. Drifting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre, Bahorel and Joly (to a lesser extent) rescue Javert from the Seine. However, Javert gets ill soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic comes from the song [_Would?_ by Alice in Chains](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JB_fNVOPzyM).
> 
>  
> 
> _Into the flood again_  
>  _Same old trip it was back then_  
>  _So I made a big mistake_  
>  _Try to see it once my way ___

**June 7, 1832 1:00 a.m.**

Étienne Combeferre, Matthieu Joly, and Victor Bahorel are walking the streets of Paris at 1:00 a.m. on June 7. Although the rebellion the previous day had failed epically, these 3 had made it to the end along with the rest of les amis de l'abaisse. Despite what had happened on the 6th, these 3 are restless and up at odd hours. As they were approaching the bridge at the pont au change, they saw a solemn looking man wearing a dark blue trench coat at the parapet. His long hair was undone and blowing in the wind, and he seemed to be gazing at the stars. Combeferre smiled to himself when he realized that himself, Joly, and Bahorel weren't the only ones up at this hour. They eventually passed the bridge and were headed down towards a small path by the river bank.

~~

René Javert balanced on the edge of the bridge's barrier. The situation with Jean Valjean, who had been around the past 17 years of his life, left him in a predicament that he couldn't seem to escape. This was especially daunting since Javert never faced indecision before. He was stoic, relentless, and cunning, so every decision he made was calculated. But how can he arrest an old man who broke a window back in 1796, and leave his child without a father? And how could he just let a criminal who changed his name multiple times to evade the law just go free? Maybe he had been wrong all along. Javert believed that it was too late to fix everything that went wrong, and that there was no way to go on.

Javert asked God for forgiveness before jumping off the bridge. It was as if time slowed down as he was free falling into nothing, until he eventually landed feet first in the Seine. Javert didn't try to swim against the current; he just let it carry him away.

~~

Meanwhile, the 3 students are now walking along the banks of the Seine under the bridge. Combeferre and Joly got into a debate about mathematics.

"You should take a class in multivariable calculus, I tell you," Combeferre said to Joly.

"Why would I need to know multivariable calculus to become a doctor?" said Joly. "I have already taken single variable calculus, and I've never used it once outside of class. Some types of math just don't have any applications to science, let alone anything outside of mathematics."

"Engineers use mathematics in many of their calculations," said Combeferre.

"Yes indeed, but I think that it's safe to say that none of us are engineers," Bahorel joked. "The barricade that we built was so poorly structured and dilapidated. It was such a failure!"

"Yeah, we're not the best engineers," Combeferre smiled. "But fortunately, multivariable calculus is also used in physics," he said to Joly.

"Guess who isn't a physicist?" Joly asked, pointing to himself.

"Actually, electricity and magnetism are in the field of physics," Combeferre pointed out. "And I figured that since you're interested in that, you might want to learn more about the theoretical aspects of it in addition to the observational ones."

"I realize that engineers and physicists use calculus and statistics, but when has finding the determinant of a matrix or the supremum of a set solved a real world problem?" asked Joly.

"Think about it this way," said the older student. "Biology is applied chemistry. Chemistry is applied physics. And physics is applied mathematics." 

At this point, Joly was lost for words. He knew he was losing to Combeferre once again. But their little debate was cut short once they saw a person being carried away by the current. Could they be alive?

"Stay here, Joly. You cannot swim," Combeferre warned his friend. He dove in the river shortly after Bahorel. Joly watched nervously as he saw Bahorel and Combeferre go below the surface of the water. Combeferre and Bahorel swam as fast as they can, trying to bring the person closer to the shore. It was an uphill battle against the freezing, turbulent waters of the Seine. But fortunately, this was a battle that they won, albeit with a lot of struggling. Bahorel dragged the man, who was tall but surprisingly light, towards the sandy bank and away from the water. Joly was relieved to see that his friends and the man made it out of the river, but he made no hesitation to take the man's pulse and see if he was breathing. It looked like he had been in the water for quite some time.

Joly felt a weak pulse in the man's wrist. "He's alive, thank God." But when he checked to see if the man was breathing, there was nothing. "Merde, he isn't breathing!" Joly panicked.

"He'll still have a chance if he can get resuscitated!" Combeferre said. Combeferre moved quickly and started compressing the man's chest. There was a slight slope on the banks of the Seine river. Combeferre moved the man so that his head was at a lower level than the rest of his body. It was a Dutch technique invented in 1767 that he learned in medical school. Combeferre pinched the man's nose shut and breathed into his mouth. Soon after, the man jolted up, coughing up water from the river.

After noticing his long hair and height, Joly recognizes him as the man on top the bridge from earlier. Could he have fell? _Oh no, then he could have broken ribs_ , Joly thought.

"Are you alright, monsieur?" Bahorel asked as he lifted Javert to his feet quickly.

"Be careful!" said Joly. "You don't want to injure him any further."

"Let's get you to a fiacre," said Combeferre.

~~

The first thing Javert saw when he regained consciousness was a dark haired, slightly cross-eyed man breathing into his mouth. Is this hell? No, this couldn't be hell, because Javert realized that he was actually on the shore of the Seine river. And he was surrounded by a worried teenager who rambled on about broken bones and catching pneumonia, and a strong man that reminded him of someone whom he hated for 17 years.

"Are you alright, monsieur?" asked Valjean 2 as he lifted Javert to his feet.

"Be careful!" said Worried Boy. "You don't want to injure him any further."

"Let's get you a fiacre," Cross-Eye suggested. And the 4 of them walked back towards the street. All of them except the teenager were soaking wet.

Valjean 2 paid the fare for the fiacre. "Would you like to go to a hospital?" Worried Boy asked Javert. "You seemed to have fallen off a bridge."

 _Fallen?_ Javert thought. _If only they knew..._

"Yes I fell off a bridge," Javert lied. "but I do not believe it is necessary for me to go to a hospital."

"Then where do you live?" Cross-Eye asked. "We could take you to your lodgings instead."

"187 Normandy Boulevard," said Javert. He regretted saying his address 2 seconds later as the driver started heading for the destination.

"Well, Ferre. I just happened to notice that you aren't wearing glasses," Valjean 2 said to Cross-Eye.

"I seemed to have lost them in the river. I guess I'll get another pair of glasses tomorrow," said Cross-Eye.

"I bet that one can find and take various items in that river. We just happened to find a clumsy stargazer who leant too far over the parapet," Valjean 2 laughed.

"I appreciate your heroism, but I advise that you change into some dry clothes before you catch pneumonia. Especially you." Worried Boy addressed Javert. "You inhaled a bunch of river water and are therefore more susceptible to an infection of the lungs."

The wannabe doctor boy had only spoken a handful of times, but Javert already wanted him to shut up. And the red-headed man reminded him of Valjean, with his suggestion of taking things from the river. The only one he could tolerate was the one called "Ferre". He couldn't wait to finally leave the fiacre.

**June 11, 1832**

Javert felt unwell, which was unusual because he wasn't often sick. He caught a fever and a cough, and his nose ran like the river that he jumped in a few days ago. Nevertheless, Javert was a resilient person, not one to complain. Today is the day he plans to take back his resignation from the Paris police department, and he's on his way to deliver a letter to Chabouillet (the head of the Paris police department).

While walking the streets of Paris, Javert notices a young blond boy about a foot shorter than him. He had a cane and was walking with an older man with glasses. They looked a lot like Worried Boy and Cross-Eye from the river the other day.

"Hey, Combeferre. Didn't you and Bahorel rescue that man the other day?" the blonde boy asks the taller brunette.

"I think that might be him, Joly" said Combeferre. "He looks familiar, but I think I've seen him somewhere else besides the Seine."

It took Combeferre a while to recognize Javert as the man from the Seine. He looks thinner without wearing his trench coat. He had also developed a bad cough, which the one called Joly definitely noticed.

"Hello monsieur. I hope you're doing well," Combeferre said to Javert.

"I'm doing quite okay and shall return to work soon," the former spy said. Javert breathed shallowly, trying not to cough.

"We haven't introduced ourselves," said the short one. "I'm Matthieu Joly, and this is Étienne Combeferre."

"And I'm René," Javert said. He wasn't wrong.

"We're medical students," said Combeferre.

"And I'm a poli—"

Javert soon realized that this shallow breathing technique was a bad idea after all and definitely wasn't working. He stifled a fit of coughing in his sleeve. The coughs were thick with fluid, and it felt as if he were in the river once again as he choked and wheezed.

"Your cough sounds bad, like it has a high chance of turning pneumatic. You should really go to a hospital, monsieur. Especially after falling from that height. Plus, if any of your ribs are broken, your lungs could collapse and you will die!" Joly was concerned.

"Stop being dramatic, little boy" Javert said to the small medical student. "It is merely a cold, and surely my ribs could not have been broken after falling into water. It is quite apparent that water isn't the same as concrete."

"First if all, I'm 27. Secondly, I'm sorry if my concern for your well being came off as dramatic," Joly apologized.

"There's no way you're 27," Javert scoffed in disbelief. "You don't look a day over 19."

"Well, I have all 4 wisdom teeth, which proves that I'm at least 22. See?"

"No one wants to see your nasty teeth," said the former inspector.

"Wait, my teeth are nasty?" Joly wondered.

"What's wrong with him?" Javert muttered to himself with a congested sniff.

"He tends to worry a lot," Combeferre explained. "And as improbable as it seems, he is 27."

"Yes, and I'm the tsar of Russ—" Javert's sarcastic remark was cut off by another fit of coughing, which was disappointing to him. Because it's hard to sound cutting-edge and sarcastic while hacking up mucus and wheezing.

"I definitely understand," said Combeferre. "When I first met him, I thought he was a child prodigy that got into medical school rather early."

"Speaking of medicine, does René not seem ill to you?" Joly asked Combeferre.

"May I?" Combeferre asked as he reached to touch Javert's forehead.

"He does have a bit of a fever, but it probably isn't that serious." Combeferre concluded.

"Yeah, I bet I can win a footrace even," Javert said with a slight smirk.

"Really?" said Joly. "I'll have to see this for myself."

"Me too," said Combeferre. "Would you meet us at Parc Monceau for a race at 3:00? We'll bring friends."

"And if you lose, you have to go to the hospital," Joly added.

"Fair enough," Javert said.

**3:00 p.m. at Parc Monceau**

Clement Courfeyrac, Perryn Grantaire, and Jehan Prouvaire are at the park with Joly, Combeferre, and Javert. Courfeyrac is a gregarious fellow who likes making jokes and being extra dramatic. Grantaire is the only one there who is more cynical than Javert. And Prouvaire is a shy young man who looks like Joly's fraternal twin. Javert is now eavesdropping on Jehan's, Combeferre's, and Joly's conversation.

"I think I might lose," said Jehan.

"And why is that?" asked Combeferre.

"Because there's this strange thing that happens to me from time to time," Jehan explained. "Sometimes it feels as if someone is gripping my throat and it's like I'm being choked and I can't breathe. It tends to happen at random, though, so I might complete the race if I'm lucky."

"So you're telling me that you've had these symptoms for this long and never told anyone?" Joly was shocked. "This boy..." Joly muttered to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know why this happens. Perhaps the air is bad and maybe it's just miasma acting up," said Jehan.

"A Greek pun; isn't that something? " Combeferre laughed.

"I don't get what's so funny. I don't even know Greek," said Jehan.

"Let me explain," said Combeferre. "Asthma is a term first coined in ancient Greece. It's a condition whose symptoms include chronic shortness of breath." 

"Which you probably have, by the way!" Joly interjected.

"Anyway, 'miasma' sounds like 'my asthma', so you made a pun without even knowing it, my friend!" Combeferre said to Jehan.

Soon after, Maurice Enjolras shows up at the park. He recognizes Javert immediately.

"Damn it, don't you all realize that's that spy Javert from the rebellion?" Enjolras was shocked. "I thought the old man killed him."

This all started to make sense to Javert. The loud-mouthed one, Courfeyrac, was at the barricade a few days ago. The neurotic boy with the cane, Joly, was the same one with the mirror from the June rebellion. And of course there was the annoying drunk one. Combeferre was the only one of the students who wasn't absolutely insane. In fact, Combeferre tried to convince Enjolras not to execute him.

"I don't really think that matters," said Combeferre. "I really don't think he's all that bad."

Now that enough people were there, the race had begun. Courfeyrac and Grantaire were watching to see who came in what place, while the rest of them at the starting line: a tree on the west side of the park.

"Ready, set, go!"

And they took off. Jehan got way ahead of everyone else rather quickly. The poet was much faster than they expected. Behind him was Enjolras, followed by Combeferre, then Joly, then Javert in last place. Jehan crossed the finish line first with time to spare. Enjolras was second, Combeferre third, and Joly with his slight limp staggered/ran past the finish line fourth. Javert didn't even cross the finish line. He was just standing there clutching his ribs.

"Damn, Jehan. Next you should run yourself into an Olympic arena. You'd do great!" Courfeyrac was impressed.

"So now you want to be track stars, hm?" said Grantaire. "You all look so ridiculous. You know what, everyone can get made fun of for their run. Enjolras is running to me because I'm naked, haha. Joly thinks he's cool but he's a pansy. Combeferre's running like he got to shit and he's on his way to a chamber pot. Jehan is running like he's late for church. And Javert is running like he's inebriated."

"Oh, Javert. You know that something is wrong if even Jolllly can beat you in a race," said Courfeyrac. "He's so damn slow—that's why we made him a sentry during the June rebellion. Just about anyone can beat him up, like he could actually get assaulted by wind."

"Alright, I get it!" Javert and Joly said simultaneously. Javert was disappointed that he came in last place. After all, he is 6'2" and adept at chasing criminals on foot, so theoretically he should be leaving these school boys in the dust.

"Wait, do I really run like that?" Combeferre asked Grantaire.

"Of course not. You know how I like to tease everyone," said the cynic.

**5:00 p.m. at the hospital**

Combeferre, Joly, and Javert are in a room adjacent to Dr. Desrouleaux's office, waiting for Javert to get diagnosed with an injury/illness. Javert's choked coughing really worries Joly.

"Are you coughing up blood?" the hypochondriac asks.

"What? No." Javert said, sniffing because he could barely breathe through his nose.

"I am only asking because that could be a sign of broken ribs. I'm concerned because free falling from that height is basically like hitting concrete. I think it has something to do with kinematics," Joly explains.

"Oh, so _now_ you want to be a physicist?" said Combeferre.

"I am such a hypocrite," Joly admitted.

"Anyway, that isn't something he should worry about, because he would probably have to jump down a flight of stairs to fully break them. That is, if they're even fractured at all."

"Is René Javert here?" a voice, presumably Dr. Desrouleaux, asked.

"Yes, I am here for a medical examination," Javert replied.

"Come follow me," Desrouleaux said, and Javert followed him into an examination room.

"So you said you fell off a bridge? I must say it's a miracle that you survived," Desrouleaux remarked. The doctor looks at Javert's arms and sees bruises, but no broken bones. He then asks Javert to remove his shirt so that he can see his ribs. After looking at them and tapping them with a strange contraption, Dr. Desrouleaux concludes that Javert's ribs are fractured, but not fully broken.

"You might want to take laudanum as a painkiller," the doctor said. "Alright, I'm going to listen to your breathing. I need you to breathe deeply as I use this stethoscope for mediate auscultation."

Javert tried to breathe deeply, but instead coughed heavily and was left breathless afterwards as his breathing rattled in his chest. It was as if his lungs were gargling water. When Javert could finally breathe deeply without coughing, the doctor saw that his breathing was still labored and uneven.

"This looks like a case of pneumonia," said the doctor. "You can take syrup of poppies for the cough, or bleeding might help."

Desrouleaux and Javert return to where Combeferre and Joly are. "It looks like M. Javert has fractured ribs and pneumonia," the doctor explained. "It's survivable, but not the most favorable thing to be afflicted with."

Combeferre looked right at Joly. "Joly, I know that no one has ever said this to you before, but you were right!" Combeferre admitted.

" _Mais oui_ ," Joly said flatly.

Now Combeferre knew not to write Joly off as just a paranoid hypochondriac.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- You can thank [Berleezy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLW_6o7G6B4#t=3m24.5s) for me including the race in the park scene.  
> \- Resuscitation of drowning persons has actually been around since the 18th century.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_cardiopulmonary_resuscitation  
> \- In the 19th century, miasma was a term for bad air.  
> \- The term "asthma" had also been around for quite some time.  
> <http://www.etymonline.com/word/asthma>  
> \- Sorry for any anachronisms. I'll get the hang of it eventually, lol.


	2. Rather burn out than fade away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending the night at Combeferre's house, Javert discovers something unfortunate: all the annoying schoolboys live in close proximity and frequently visit each other. Marius insists that Javert is a bigger stalker than him, Joly tries to get philosophical, and Javert is still sassy as ever despite having pneumonia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly there is no good explanation why there are a bunch of people at Combeferre's house. Also half the dialogue kinda sounds like lines from a Comedy Central roast (writing serious fics isn't really my forte). I also haven't read enough historical literature to get the gist of how they talked back then. English was my worst subject in school, lol

**June 11, 1832 5:45 p.m.**

Javert's situation after jumping in the Seine was not very fortunate. He resigned from the police force and there was no way that they would take him back. He has to pay the landlord eventually, but what new job could he realistically get at 52? Especially at his current state of health. Some of his ribs fractured from the jump, and he caught a case of influenza that turned into pneumonia. Plus, now he was conversing with two students from the rebellion who had every right to hate him but didn't, which confused him.

"...and that's why you should travel to Spain!" Joly said.

"Well, Joly, that was very uh, enlightening," said Combeferre.

"Why thank you," said Joly. For the first time this evening, Javert saw that the boy was happy instead of worried. "Well, I ought to be going now. Bossuet and Musichetta are probably waiting for me at home. And please get some rest, monsieur," he said to Javert. Then he left Combeferre and Javert as he headed southwest, presumably to Bossuet and Musichetta. Javert was kind of glad that Joly was finally gone.

"Can I ask you something, Combeferre?" Javert inquired. "How long does it typically take to recover from pneumonia?"

"I'm not exactly sure, to be honest. It varies. But for you, I would guess approximately two weeks?" Combeferre estimated.

"Damn, two weeks. I'm looking for a job, and I think that I'd be more likely to get hired if I wasn't ill." Javert was right about that. He was generally a healthy person. The last time he took a day off of work because he was sick was 4 years ago in 1828, and he had never been hospitalized, ever. But right now, he failed at not looking sick because he started coughing again. Combeferre watched as the coughs shook his thin frame. 

"Well thanks for your help. I ought to be going now," said Javert as he started walking northeast.

"Wait, Javert. Your house is quite a distance away. Would you like to spend the night at my apartment? It's only a few blocks away."

Javert was skeptical at the idea of staying at someone else's house. But at least Joly had finally left and wasn't going to be there, so staying at Combeferre's apartment seemed somewhat tolerable.

"Alright. I'll allow myself to stay for the night," Javert reluctantly agreed.

**6:10 p.m. at Combeferre's house**

Combeferre and Javert took the stairs to the fourth floor, the point at which Javert's labored breathing became more apparent. They arrived at the apartment room, which was rather cluttered. Drawers and cabinets were open, clothes and shoes were on the floor, plus there were books and science experiments scattered everywhere, which made it look as if the place had been robbed.

"The things thieves do," Javert sighed as he scanned the area before sneezing into the crook of his elbow. "Monsieur Combeferre, I can arrest whoever was behind this robbery and—wait, I just remembered that I can no longer make arrests because I resigned from the police department."

Combeferre laughed at Javert's assumption. "Oh, Javert. My apartment wasn't robbed. It just looks like that because it's perpetually cluttered. I guess that I should clean my room more often."

Javert's gaze was directed downwards when he noticed a book on the floor that caught his attention.

"Is that the Messier Catalogue?" Javert asked Combeferre.

"Why yes it is. Charles Messier is one of my favorite astronomers. This catalogue is the updated one describing 103 celestial objects," said Combeferre.

"When I was your age, the categorization of the Messier objects was a popular topic among scientists," said Javert. Despite being a law officer, Javert had quite extensive knowledge of astronomy. For the most part he didn't like reading, but books on astronomy were an exception. And it was at that moment that Javert had decided that Combeferre was officially alright. It was a good thing that they had something in common. He felt guilty for misjudging him as just some rebellious delinquent at the barricades.

"Oh, there's also this paper _On an Inequality of Long Period in the Motions of the Earth and Venus_ by George Airy," Combeferre said, rummaging through a pile of papers on his desk. "And I believe I have a copy of _Catalogue of 500 New Nebulae_ by William Herschel."

"Speaking of nebulae, there's this theory that unidentified nebulous objects are thought to be stellar novae, similar to the one in the year 1054," said Javert.

"Wow, I didn't know that there was a stellar nova witnessed back in 1054," said Combeferre.

"There are multiple accounts of it," Javert explained. "The Chinese called it a 'guest star' because it suddenly appeared in a place where no star had been previously observed."

"I must say, you know quite a lot about astronomy," Combeferre was impressed.

"When I was younger, I wanted to go to university and study astronomy, but there was no way I could. So the best I could do was become an autodidactic on that subject." Javert wanted to stay up and discuss Olber's paradox with Combeferre, but he was feeling more tired than usual, he felt hot from the fever, and his ribs hurt badly.

**10:41 p.m.**

It turns out that Combeferre and Javert are night owls and stayed up later than they expected. Javert's cough is partially to blame for keeping him up. But Javert was ready to retire for the night, so he got on the couch because he was a guest.

"Oh, I suggest that you sleep on the bed because you were injured recently. I can sleep on the couch," Combeferre offered.

"Really?" Javert reluctantly got in the bed while Combeferre got on the couch.

**June 12 2:00 a.m.**

Combeferre woke to the sounds of choking. He immediately got up to check on Javert. Javert was sitting up and coughing heavily; his hands were shaking and his chest was heaving. Combeferre wanted to ask if Javert was okay, but he knew that the answer to that question was obvious.

Combeferre put an arm around him and rubbed his back. "Everything is going to be alright," he said. When Javert could speak, he apologized for startling Combeferre.

"It is nothing," said the medical student. "I was just checking on you. Sometimes, unfortunately, coughs can become worse at night. Just keep your head slightly elevated. It'll help."

So Javert got back in the bed with his head slightly elevated, and fortunately he didn't wake himself up coughing again. But the fever that he had came along with horrendous dreams: nightmares about Valjean, and nightmares about being permanently fired because of a suicide attempt.

**7:57 a.m.**

Shortly after waking up, Javert found out that his hair had been braided. It was in two pigtails, like that painting of Sacajawea from 1805. Who could have done this? He turned around and saw a small man with a badly mismatched outfit enter the room. It was that writer Jehan from the barricades. How on earth did he get here?

"I see that you noticed your braids," said Jehan.

 _This has got to be the worst prank ever_ , Javert thought. "You braided my hair while I was sleeping?"

"Why yes. You have such nice hair."

That was true. While Javert generally looked creepy, his long dark brown hair was rather nice. It was straight as a bone and flowed down his back, swishing side to side when he walked or ran.

Javert still wasn't impressed by this wake-up prank, and he let Jehan know. "Why don't you get your fast arse back to your house with those extreme flood warning high waters you have on. And put some damn shoes on for crying out loud. Don't get me started on that ugly purple waistcoat from the 1400s and your hair with those nasty loose ends that look like a cthulhu."

"You're one to talk," said another boy who he hadn't seen there before. Courfeyrac. "You look like the number eleven, all gangly and such. But I must admit that you're right about something: if there was a flood, Jehan's pants wouldn't get wet."

"Ah, yes. that is true, Courfeyrac," Jehan giggled. "Why is your hair long?" Jehan asked Javert. "It seems rather anachronistic."

"Well, I'm generally busy and usually don't have time to go to the barber shop. I can just tie my hair in a queue and be on my way. Since my hair is very straight it's rather easy to maintain, so I can do it at home without going to a barber shop and trying to make small talk with some hair dresser, you know what I mean?" said Javert.

"Hm, I never thought of it that way," said Jehan.

**10:30 a.m.**

Next entered the only one more annoying than Grantaire and more dramatic than Courefeyrac, that boy who was named after a Roman emperor. Marius Pontmercy.

"Where did all these people come from?" Javert asked.

"We all live near each other," Combeferre explained. "Enjolras, Grantaire, Jehan, Feuilly, and Bahorel live in the same apartment complex as me. Bossuet lives a few blocks southwest with Joly, and Marius lives across the street with Courfeyrac."

"Ferre, I heard that you rescued someone from drowning," said Marius. "I must say I'm impressed with your skills as a physician."

"Yeah, but at what point does it stop being resuscitation and start becoming a kissing session?" Courfeyrac teased. "I bet Marius would pretend to drown so that Cosette can kiss him just like Combeferre did to Javert."

"He was most certainly not kissing me!" Javert said, appalled.

"Oh, so this stalker was the man that was rescued?" Marius said. "Monsieur Valjean told me all about you," he said to Javert, glaring at him a bit. Javert rolled his eyes at the name "Valjean". "Why did you have to make him and his daughter's life so complicated?"

"Stop it at once. Isn't it hypocritical for you to call me a stalker? When I was at the barricades, I have had the misfortune of hearing all those damned stories about that girl who you know nothing about. You have watched her from afar for months without her even knowing that you exist."

"But can't you see that Marius is a romantic, with the Italian name and all?" Courfeyrac drawled.

"Oh, please. The only reason you can get away with this behavior is because you're young, rich, and good-looking. If someone ugly and old like me tried to contact her like you did, she'd call the police, no question!" Javert said before coughing into his sleeve.

"Yes, that very same police force that thinks it's okay to hunt down people who have already done their time," Marius scoffed.

"It is not 'hunting down' that law enforcement is doing. Those are merely investigative procedures, and they're perfectly legal," said Javert.

"And _you_ can get away with such behavior because you're a police inspector and think you're above the law," Marius retorted.

"No. It's really you young people who think you're untouchable. You and that 4 foot 9 fake doctor can get away with anything," Javert said.

"I'm 5 foot 2, and I'm studying to be a _real_ doctor," a melismatic tenor said. Joly.

"And Marius can get away with it because he's doing it for love; he's nice and romantic, like a true Italian," Courfeyrac said.

"I'm not Italian," Marius said plainly. But coincidentally, he did look like a Fayum mummy portrait from the Roman imperial era.

"Oh shut up, Caesar," a rough voice said. That was Grantaire.

"Even Grantaire is here," Courfeyrac said as he hugged Grantaire. "I'm surprised Éponine hasn't come here yet to find Pompey." He was referring to Marius as Pompey.

"I find it strange that she always knows where I am," said Marius. "She scares me with her conniving parents, and she looks like she's been kicking herself in the teeth. And why on earth did she come to the barricades?"

"It is quite obvious that Éponine doesn't give a damn about politics. I think the real reason she went to the barricades is that she wanted to be with you, Caligula," Joly said.

"I don't know. She looks like someone who would murder you in your sleep," said Marius.

"Grantaire looks like someone who would murder you in broad daylight, and yet you associate with him," Joly said.

"I guess the reason she is so off-putting to me is because she reminds me of myself," said Marius. "An ugly, poor version of myself," he added.

"Damn, Augustus. We get it. Cease fire!" Courfeyrac joked. Javert hated to admit it, but he liked the running gag of them calling Marius names of other Roman emperors. He totally deserved it.

"But think about this," said Grantaire. "If Nero is making fun of Éponine and he says that he's similar to her, then isn't he making fun of himself in a way?"

"Yes that is true," Marius said. "And I promise not to follow anyone without them knowing, because now I know what it's like to be stalked."

"Do tell," said Courfeyrac.

"For the past few days, there has been this fly living at me an Courfeyrac's house and following me around. I'll be in the middle of something, and the fly will be looking for company. Either I'm too slow to catch it, or I'm so drunk that I try to converse with it. I tried leading it outside, but failed. The fly will follow me room by room, but won't follow me out of the house! If a fly wants to be a stalker, he at least has to be true to his word. And how is it that a fly can enter through a crack in the window, but can't leave through a wide open door? What kind of logic is that?!"

"That's because flies really aren't too bright," said Combeferre.

"I must say you're quite the raconteur," Courfeyrac said to Marius.

That was probably the most uneventful story Javert ever heard. A damned fly? Really? But as lame as he thought the story was, Javert still hated that he coughed through half of it. "Why don't you just kill it?" he asked.

"Because that's taking a life, and the fly didn't do anything wrong?" Jehan asked.

"No, because I'm petty and I don't want him to win," Marius said. "If I kill him out of rage, the fly will certainly prove its power to drive people mad. Have you ever seen them rub their hands together like they're planning something sinister?"

"Technically flies don't have hands," Combeferre said.

"Why must you ruin all the funny things with science references?" Marius asked.

Javert meant to scoff at that, but he ended up sounding like someone who was sniffling because their nose is running.

"Haven't you got a handkerchief?" Joly asked Javert. He didn't. It was lost in the Seine along with his trenchcoat and one of his boots. Joly handed him a new handkerchief from his pocket.

**11:11 a.m.**

"Joly, you said that you'd go through the fire, but not through the rain. What on earth does that mean?" asked Grantaire.

"What I just said," Joly said with a smirk.

"So you're telling me that you don't want to catch a cold from standing in the rain, but you are perfectly okay with getting burnt at the stake? So you're a pansy and brave at the same time. Oh, how you contradict yourself sometimes."

"Truthfully, I'd rather get the guillotine than get burnt at the stake if I were to be executed."

"So you want to be executed?" the artist asked.

"It's not that I _want_ to get executed, it's just that execution has some degree of certainty to it. I would surely rather be executed than slowly die of an incurable disease. I think it is better for a candle to burn out than fade away," said Joly.

"Oh, Jolllly. Stop trying to get all poetic. You're clearly no Jehan," Grantaire laughed.

"You're right. I'm like the boy who cried wolf," Joly explained. "If I get seriously ill, I'm done for because no one will believe me. I deserve it though, with all the times I've inundated you by worrying about nothing."

The kid is dumb, Javert thought, but at least he's self aware.

"But when you're mildly ill, you just mispronounce half the alphabet and act dramatic," said Courfeyrac. "And Javert, you're the opposite of Joly: you think you're okay when you're not."

"And Joly, can I ask you something else? If you wanted to know 100% for sure how you will die, then shouldn't you just kill yourself?" Grantaire remarked.

"Well there's that. I didn't factor that in, but you do make a very valid point, you ass," Joly playfully tapped Grantaire with his cane.

"Sometimes pessimism is just as good as realism," Javert laughed, between sniffs. He turned aside to blow his nose. "Ugh, sorry about that," he said.

"No worries," said Courfeyrac.

**11:27 a.m.**

After a few more minutes of eavesdropping on les amis, he realizes that they insult each other as jokes. A lot. And yet they are still good friends.

"Courfeyrac is such a whore that he makes Joly look like a flowering virgin," Grantaire laughed. "That's for the serial killer joke, Joly."

This never really made sense to Javert, as he only insulted those he disliked or had issues with. Maybe he had never been close enough to anyone to the point where making jokes like this was acceptable. He didn't want to admit it, but he could learn a thing or two from these students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Olbers' paradox](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olbers%27_paradox)  
>  Fayum mummy portraits weren't portraits of actual mummies; they were pictures of a person placed outside their sarcophagus.  
> <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fayum_mummy_portraits>


	3. My Confidence Is Leaving Me On My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert gets tipsy at a meeting that les amis invited him to and tells a secret that he regrets later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from [Bat County by Avenged Sevenfold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsZy3I6colo).
> 
> Also, there are some jokes about les amis' first names, so here are their first names and their English equivalents:
> 
> Bossuet=André=Andrew  
> Combeferre=Étienne=Steven  
> Courfeyrac=Clément=Clement  
> Enjolras=Maurice=Maurice  
> Feuilly=Eugéne=Eugene  
> Grantaire=Perryn=Peter  
> Joly=Matthieu=Matthew  
> Prouvaire=Jehan=John

**June 13, 1832**

Javert decided that whatever injury or illness that he got after jumping in the Seine had became rather annoying at this point. The coughing fits that he had made the pain from the fractured ribs even worse. He hated blowing his nose only for it to start running again shortly after, and it was rather inconvenient to be more tired than usual from a fever. So he finally decided to go to the store and get some of the drugs that the doctor recommended.

On his way there, he ran into a wealthy looking student who was almost as tall as he was. It had to be Courfeyrac, that annoying talkative man who's friends with that annoying creepy one.

"Oh hello, Javert!" said Courefyrac.

"Hello," said Javert.

"If you aren't doing anything, you're more than welcome to attend our meetings. We're not a secret society, I promise."

Javert didn't think that was a good idea. He anticipated that he'd be bored because he's probably too politically conservative, and because he didn't give a damn about any type of revolution.

"I'm sorry I can't go because...uhh," Javert tried to think of an excuse. "I'm sick."

While that was technically true, it was rather odd for him to be saying such things in these circumstances. Javert was a terrible liar, and it was unlike him to make excuses to get out of doing things that he didn't want to do. Javert feigned a cough, but it ended up turning into a real coughing fit.

"It's at 2:00 at the cafe Musain. There'll be alcohol and such. And Combeferre knows of a place where you can work at as an astronomer," said Courfeyrac.

Javert wished that he hadn't ran into Courfeyrac. But now because of this, he may or may not go to that meeting that he was invited to. "Thanks for informing me," said Javert.

~~

Javert went to the store to get some laudanum and syrup of poppies. The painkiller laudanum is an opiate, and Javert felt unusual after taking it. He was tired, yet full of strange thoughts. So against his better judgement, he decided to go to the meeting.

**2:00 p.m. at the cafe Musain**

Javert walked into a bunch of commotion and laughter upon his entry in the Musain.

"Come on, Enjolras. Can I do this, please?" Marius asks Enjolras. "Everyone else is okay with it!"

"Alright, you can," Enjolras said reluctantly.

"Yes!" Marius exclaimed. He was giddy and could barely stop himself from laughing.

"Andy?" Marius called.

"Present!" A bald man responded.

"Steve?" Marius said.

"Present," Étienne Combeferre said.

"Clem?"

"Present!" said Clément de Courfeyrac.

"Maury?"

There was a few seconds of silence. "Present," Maurice Enjolras said, clearly resentful of being called Maury.

"Gene?"

"Present," said a thin man with a hat.

"Pete?"

"Present!" said Perryn Grantaire.

"Matt?"

"Present!" said Matthieu Joly.

"Jack?"

"Present," said Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire.

"Wait, what's Javert's first name?"

"It's René!" Joly said from across the room.

"Hey, Ren! Where's Jack Valjack?" Marius joked.

"I have no idea what you're—oh, now I understand. Very funny," Javert said sarcastically.

"Oh, and Grantaire can bring Flo, and I can bring Colette," Marius said. "I wonder if Colette is interested in politics."

"Why don't we ever bring women here?" Bossuet asked.

"Yes, most of us are good with women," said Feuilly. "Except for you, Marius. I think you're rushin' a bit with Cosette."

"I'm not Russian! I've never even been to Russia," said Marius.

Initially, Javert thought that Joly was the dumb one; he was wrong. He figured that he'd have to be at least tipsy to withstand this meeting. So he did another thing that was out of character: he drank some alcohol. This ought to be interesting; he hadn't drank since the 1810's.

Javert sat there half paying attention to Enjolras and some other students' speeches. Javert looked almost bored, with his head resting on his hand and his hair undone (his hair tie was lost in the Seine). He didn't understand most of what they were talking about, although he did recognize some legal jargon. Javert wondered how many of them were lawyers. And since he was in law enforcement, he wondered if a law degree was actually useful after all. That thought was followed by a sneeze. His head shook enough so that some of his hair got in his face. He took out a handkerchief, blowing his nose as his hair still concealed his face. He looked somewhat pensive and sad. This is because Javert is what one would call a "contemplative drunk".

After Enjolras' speech, the funny drunk Grantaire asked Javert how the meeting was.

"I really hated it," said Javert. "The discussion of unrealistic goals and blatant pandering was just awful."

"Well your futile attempt to spy on student groups during the rebellion with your stupid disguise was rather awful, if I must say so," said Enjolras.

Grantaire cracked a small smile. "You people argue so much because you're so much alike," Grantaire said to Enjolras and Javert.

"Don't compare me to him!" both of them shouted simultaneously.

But Grantaire was right. Although they had different goals, Javert's being justice and Enjolras' being liberation, they were similar in their relentlessness. They even looked like each other, to an extent. They were both tall and thin with ice blue eyes and long hair. Enjolras' hair was blond and curly, while Javert's was dark brown and straight. Both of their resting facial expressions were "I'm mad about something".

"Well I find it funny that you don't want to be compared to each other, seeing how similarly condescending and close-minded you both are," Grantaire pointed out.

"Wait, Grantaire. You think I'm condescending?" Enjolras said, sounding somewhat guilty. Up until now, Enjolras wasn't aware that Grantaire perceived him that way. 

"Well yes. You berate me for coming up with counterarguments while drunk, and you chide Joly for worrying about his health."

"I apologize, Grantaire," said Enjolras. "And as for you, Javert, I'll just let you arrest me because that's apparently what you wanted in the first place," he said throwing his hands in the air flippantly.

"I'm not going to arrest you because I am legally unable to at the moment. But I swear if I hadn't resigned, you would be behind bars."

"Oh, so now you're a quitter? It figures, since you're so bad at your job that the little boy Gavroche found you out. Did you really think these students weren't going to notice some ancient cop with a sorry disguise who didn't know a damn thing about revolutions? Aren't you 82?"

"Shut the hell up! I know way more about combat than you." Javert wasn't planning on getting in an argument with Enjolras while on laudanum and slightly drunk, but there he was.

"Oh yeah? Prove it grandpere!" Enjolras challenged.

"What evidence do I need? Your group of 11 people tried to overthrow the monarchy, but you failed so damn bad it's silly."

"Get out of here with your fake name," Enjolras came up with a random insult.

"You're one to talk, _Enjolras_. Your name sounds completely made up," said Javert. He started coughing after that, with mucus rattling in his chest.

"You had it coming, seeing that you fell off a bridge into the Seine like an idiot," said Enjolras.

"I didn't _fall_ off a bridge," Javert corrected with some anger and a hint of sadness in his voice.  
"I jumped. It was a suicide attempt. I tried to kill myself."

The room fell silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- "Flo" is an English nickname for Floreal, Grantaire's friend.  
> \- I (tried to) convey that Enjolras and Javert have resting bitch face.


	4. No One Can Save Me And You Know I Don't Want The Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert speaks Romanian, Joly makes terrible puns, and Enjolras and Javert finally agree on something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter again comes from Avenged Sevenfold.

**June 13, 1832 after Les Amis' meeting**

After hearing the news that Javert had tried to kill himself, Jehan and Joly, being very sensitive people, immediately started crying. Joly felt especially guilty because the previous day, he laughed at a suicide joke that Grantaire had made right in front of Javert.

"I'm so sorry. If I had known what was going on, I never would have said that," Joly sniffed. Bossuet stroked Joly's hair while the medical student was in tears.

"That's okay. This isn't anyone's fault but mine. I am just a no-good, awfully stubborn person who cannot put up with change. This entire ordeal began with the old man at the barricades who was meant to execute the spy."

Javert sighed. Here he was, telling his life story to a bunch of vicenarians while feeling tired, self-hating and feverish. Javert sits down. He continues his back story nonetheless.

"This man's name is Jean Valjean. He spent 19 years in jail, and in 1815, he broke his parole. He's been living under multiple aliases ever since, and at one point he even pretended to be the mayor of a town. He is one of the most dishonest people I know. But despite this, he isn't inherently bad, and I learned that the hard way. At the barricades, he was to execute me for my role as a spy. With me finally out the way, his problems would be solved. But the old man at the barricades didn't kill me like I expected him to. No. Instead, he spared my life. I have been wrong about morality all my life and have judged others harshly. Even Valjean's adopted daughter's mother died partially because of me. I was conflicted and couldn't possibly find a way to resolve it, so I went to Pont au Change and jumped off the bridge into the Seine intending to kill myself."

This all started making sense to Combeferre. Javert's injures were minimal for someone who fell from a height of 15 meters. People who know what they're doing are more likely to land feet first, as jumping is a much more controlled move than falling erratically. If he had fallen and impacted the river at an awkward position, then surely more of his bones would be broken and he would not have survived. There was no way he could have fell.

"No wonder you survived the jump," Combeferre said. "Javert, why didn't you tell us before?" he asked with a bit of sorrow in his voice.

" _Nu aveam încredere în nimeni în acea zi. Dar sunt un mincinos teribil. E timpul sà afli_ ," Javert said in a language that definitely wasn't French.

"What did he just say?" asked Courfeyrac, confused.

"I don't know. It sounds like he's speaking Russian," said Grantaire.

"It can't be Russian. The words sound more Latin-derived than Russian. Maybe Serbian?" Bossuet guessed.

"It definitely isn't Polish," Feuilly pointed out.

"It could be Albanian," Marius suggested.

"Whatever it is, it's some type of Slavic language," Combeferre concluded.

"People, stop arguing," said Jehan. "It looks like Javert is not doing too well."

Javert's head was face down on the table. Joly tried nudging him, but noticed that something was wrong.

"Oh no, you're burning up!" Joly squeaked. "We need to get you to a hospital as soon as possible."

**At the hospital**

Javert is now at a place that he hadn't been since the whole situation with Fantine in 1823. This time, he is the one being visited (in this case by Combeferre and Joly). Only he doesn't know that because he's knocked out with bandages wrapped around his fractured ribs. There is also a bandage around his arm, as they bled him earlier. The pneumonia is still there, because his chest rattles when he exhales. Joly has a look of concern on his face.

"Don't worry, Joly. You've survived worse," Combeferre assured him.

That was true. When he was 15, Joly caught tuberculosis, a disease with an 80% fatality rate. He barely survived it, but he made it out alive. Unfortunately, tuberculosis can have long term negative effects on the bones, which resulted in him being small in height with uneven legs. Joly feared that the next time something like that happened, he might not be lucky enough to survive. That's why he was afraid of getting ill. 

Javert woke up soon after. He realized that he somehow ended up at a hospital, which was a pretty unfavorable situation. Even worse was that he was being visited. He hated how Joly reminded him of Fantine, with eyes that could make anyone sympathize with him. Javert's illness wasn't severe enough to kill him, but also wasn't mild enough for these people to just leave him alone and not be concerned for him. No, he was stuck in the middle.

"Javert, if you're ever feeling suicidal, you should talk to someone. They could help you out," said the bespectacled man.

Javert seriously regretted telling them about his suicide attempt. Now they think that he suffers from melancholy or something like that, which isn't true. Javert felt his breathing grow more ragged. At this point, his logic was that if he ignored it, it'll go away. So tried breathing shallowly. It was working initially, but after 10 or 15 minutes, the coughs only doubled in vigor.

"If you're having trouble breathing, then you should just cough," said Joly.

"Your humours are unbalanced, and with pneumonia, you have an overabundance of phlegm," Combeferre explained.

Javert didn't have any idea what they were talking about.

"You students and your medical jargon," Javert laughed slightly.

"You police and your astronomy jargon," Combeferre joked back.

**June 15**

This time Combeferre, Enjolras, and Joly visit the hospital.

"Is Javert still checked in at this hospital?" Enjolras asked a nurse.

"Yes he is still here in room 112, but fortunately the respiratory infection is healing," said the nurse.

They arrive at room 112, when they saw Javert, he was unconscious. But not unconscious in a good way; he was unnaturally still like a stone. Combeferre worried that he might be in a coma. He approached him and shook his shoulder.

"Say something," Combeferre said, his voice shaking a little.

"You wear your pants way too high," said Javert.

"Fair enough," said Combeferre. He was impressed that Javert always had something witty to say.

~~

Javert notices that he has 3 visitors this time. The third one is the yelling blond man from the other day.

"I came here to apologize," said Enjolras. "I'm sorry I misjudged you. I just didn't understand the gravity of your situation, and it was wrong of me to insult you so."

"I forgive you. I misjudged you as well. I used to think that everyone who broke rules is despicable," said Javert. "And Joly, I believe that you're 27."

"Yipee!" Joly cheered in the most immature way possible.

"Oh by the way, Javert, Courfeyrac said that he'll pay your rent this month," Enjolras said.

"Speaking of rent, I found an astronomer who is looking for interns to calculate parallax, measure magnitudes of stars, and help assemble telescopes. The job starts on the 21st," said Combeferre.

"Oh, so it's observational astronomy, like Galileo. Oh how I wish that it started tomorrow," said Javert.

"Yes, but before you go to work as an astronomer, you have to Gali-lay down for a while and recover from your injuries," Joly drawled. He received blank stares from the other 3 men.

"Come on, Jolllly. Did you really just do that?" asked Combeferre.

"That joke was improvised. I didn't _planet_ at all," Joly smiled.

"I never understood the humor in using words that sound the same but mean different things. There is nothing inherently funny about that," Javert said.

"I actually agree with you on that," said Enjolras. "I never thought that puns were funny"

"How could you, Enjolras? How could you?" Joly said dramatically, pretending to be upset and feigning a forlorn look with his sad dark brown eyes. But knowing him, Joly might have actually been crying.

"This seems a bit random, but do you know any other languages besides French?" Combeferre asked Javert.

"Yes, I also know Romanian," Javert said.

"Oh, Romanian. I never would have guessed that," said Combeferre.

"Why do you ask me this?" Javert was confused.

"Because at the Musain you started speaking a different language before you passed out, and we tried (and failed) to guess which one it was."

"Damn, was my fever really that bad?"

"Apparently. So I guess that you slipped into another language that you could also speak. How do you know how to speak Romanian?" Enjolras was curious.

"My mother was a gypsy from Romania and she would speak to me in Romanian. I was also born inside a jail in France and was surrounded by French prisoners, so I learned French and Romanian simultaneously. Around the prisoners and guards, I spoke French with a Romanian accent. When I was about 10, I lost my Romanian accent, which was a good thing. I wanted to prove that I was an upstanding citizen of France, and the only way to break free from my origin of poverty and jail was to work in law enforcement."

As much as Enjolras disliked law enforcement, he was impressed by Javert's back story. He started from the bottom and found a way to rise above the unfortunate circumstances that he was born into, something that Enjolras talked about a lot in his speeches. Now, Enjolras had a newfound respect for a man he once hated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Here is a rough translation of the line in Romanian: Because I didn't trust anyone at the time. But I'm a terrible liar. It's about time you've figured that out.
> 
> \- Romanian isn't my native language, so let me know if I messed up, lol.
> 
> \- [How tuberculosis affects the bones](http://www.livestrong.com/article/245508-what-are-the-symptoms-of-tuberculosis-of-the-bones/)
> 
> \- melancholy is a historical term for depression.
> 
> \- The pants joke seems random and nonsensical, but it's sort of making fun of 19th century fashion. I saw the 2012 movie, and everyone's pants pretty much looked like [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ipv8HUACQ4). (sorry I had to roast the 2012 movie)


	5. My race is not yet run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javert becomes an astronomer and also handles some unfinished business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has references to chapters 1 and 2.

**June 21, 1832**

Javert is officially not a police anymore. Today is the first day that he began working as an astronomer. It was mostly just calculations to determine the focal length and radius of curvature of telescopes, but he was surprisingly good at math. The years of perusing astronomy books in his youth certainly paid off.

**7:45 pm at Parc Monceau**

The sun shines bright orange in the west, and the shadows of trees, buildings, and street lamps are lengthening. It still isn't dark yet because it's the summer solstice in the Northern hemisphere. Because of Paris' latitude, the sun won't set for about another 2 hours. Javert was glad to be outside in the park after his shift, considering that he was no longer having an identity crisis and no longer ill. He still had a slight lingering cough, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it was initially. Javert was there anticipating to see a sky full of stars come nightfall, but all of a sudden he noticed that he wasn't the only one there.

Jehan, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and the medical students were at the park as well.

"Are you ready to lose another race?" Courfeyrac teased.

"Not this time. I'm all for a rematch. Not with you people, but with this fast one over here," Javert said, pointing out Jehan Prouvaire. Even though the poet was rather small and had asthma, he's apparently very fast. 10 days ago he beat everyone in a race by a longshot.

"Euh, I don't know about that. You still have a bit of a cough," Joly noticed.

"Yes, and apparently Jehan has some strange Greek disease, so I think we're even," Javert pointed out.

"Fair enough," said Combeferre.

They started on the west side and headed east towards the finish line. The poet was surely fast, but Javert had a height advantage over Prouvaire, who was only slightly taller than Joly. Javert was able to surpass him and was now in the lead.

"Go Javert!" a random but familiar voice said.

Javert stayed in the lead and crossed the finish line first. Then after that, he saw the person to whom that voice belonged. Jean Valjean.

"Great job," Prouvaire congratulated Javert.

"I told you I was fast," he said.

"I thought you were coming after me," Valjean joked.

"Nonsense, Valjean. I'm not in the police academy anymore; I'm an astronomer now," Javert said.

"Oh I know. Marius told me all about it," said Valjean. "Science seems fitting for you, seeing how it's logical and straightforward. Although I think you still have the uncanny ability to scare any criminal off the streets."

"I wouldn't be surprised if someone got scared when they saw you were running towards them," said Combeferre. "You look like Vlad the Impaler with sideburns."

Javert just noticed that he got insulted as a joke. He normally wouldn't like this, but according to the young people's strange social conduct, this meant that he finally had friends. So he decided to joke back:

"And you look like René Descartes with glasses."

Now Javert realized he was lucky that he hadn't left the world in bitterness, but instead stayed long enough to be forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- [Vlad the Impaler](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Bu-qrxxCAAAeXqZ.jpg) might have been the real-life inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Count Dracula.
> 
> \- side note: one of my random headcanons is that Javert kinda looks like a less scary version of Vlad the Impaler


End file.
